


A Matter of Faith

by Azaisya



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Post-Episode: c01e044 The Sunken Tomb, also. kima and keyleth's relationship is just v important to me, conversations over tea, just some girls talking about the gods and their complicated relationships w them, they deserve to talk more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaisya/pseuds/Azaisya
Summary: Keyleth, filled with nebulous worries about Vax and the Raven Queen andwhat do we owe the gods, really,finds herself outside Kima's and Allura's door. Kima does her best to explain what she's come to understand.
Relationships: Keyleth & Kima
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	A Matter of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> This started over a year ago as just a character study that I was never going to publish. It's not quite as good as I want it to be, but at this point I just wanted to finish it and I think it's turned out pretty well! This takes place at some point after ep 44 (for obvious reasons). I have no idea when. 
> 
> Also! thanks to TheWizardAndHerLady(/@breaktheworldforyou on tumblr) for betaing this ages and ages ago. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Critical Role.

_This is a terrible idea_ , Keyleth thought, a split second after she knocked, _and I should not be doing this right now._

She turned on her heel and almost started walking away when the door behind her swung open.

She hastily spun back around and grinned. “Oh, _hi,”_ she said, a little too loudly.

Standing in the doorway, wearing a simple tunic and pants, Kima raised her eyebrows. Thoroughly unimpressed, she said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Keyleth repeated, “You, um, wow, you’re looking really good today.”

Kima’s eyebrows slowly climbed even further up. “Thanks?”

Keyleth opened her mouth and then slammed it shut again. “I— no, yeah, that’s it.” She turned around and started walking away again.

“Keyleth,” Kima called, a touch wryly, “I was just about to make tea. Want to come in?”

Keyleth slowly spun around. “You know,” she said, voice several octaves higher than usual, “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Kima rolled her eyes and, as practical as ever, grabbed Keyleth's elbow and dragged her in.

“Oh, okay," Keyleth managed, “Cool.”

Kima let go as soon as they were in the house and ran over to the stove, muttering under her breath as the kettle began to scream.

Keyleth, after a second's hesitation, shut the door. The house, she was coming to recognize, was very traditionally Whitestone. Dark wood, high ceilings, simple but quaint architecture. The kitchen and the dining room took up much of the house, but a closed door led into what Keyleth could only assume was a bedroom. She flushed, slightly, because of course there was only one bedroom.

Not that there was anything _wrong_ with that. There was just something terribly intimate about standing in such a small home when its occupants hadn't had the chance to clean up. There were dirty dishes piled high in the sink and clothes—purposefully placed but since forgotten—in organized piles in the corner. She recognized Allura's deep blue robes and some of Kima's more casual tunics, but there were also night dresses and worn shirts and pale shawls that spoke of the sort of domesticity that Keyleth had been dreaming of. Quiet nights spent silently in each other's company, waking up and making breakfast, walking down the streets hand-in-hand.

Keyleth thought of her own bedroom and her own books and clothes and spell components lying haphazardly over every available surface.

She thought of Vax, and the quiet moment of glee she'd felt when she first noticed his clothes tucked into her drawers.

“Do you care what type of tea?” Kima called, drawing Keyleth out of her thoughts, “We have mint and— yeah, just mint. Sorry.”

“Mint is fine,” Keyleth said hurriedly, tearing her eyes away from the piles of clothes.

Kima clambered onto the counter, hopping over the stove to get to the cups with the sort of careless ease that made Keyleth wonder how often she did it. When she jumped down and deposited it on the table—carelessly shoving aside books and papers to make space—she said, “Sorry for the mess. Allie’s used to a much larger work space, and she’s actually terribly disorganized.”

“Is she?” Keyleth asked, surprised.

Kima laughed. “No, not normally.”

Keyleth’s lips cracked into a slight smile, and she sat down in one of the chairs, folding her legs under her. Kima dropped into the chair opposite her and pushed one of the cups across the table. Keyleth took the cup, smiling thankfully, but nervousness knotted in her throat and kept her from drinking.

Kima's pale grey eyes roamed slowly around the house, brow furrowing as she took in all the things lying about. At length, she dragged her eyes back to Keyleth. When Keyleth still didn't speak, she raised her eyebrows and asked, “What did you need, Keyleth?”

Keyleth released all of her breath in a gusty exhale. “You know,” she mumbled, “I didn’t really think this through.”

Kima laughed. "You lot don't seem to do that very much."

"No," Keyleth agreed, lips twitching ruefully, "We really don't." She ran her finger over the rim of the teacup. Her nail caught on a chip in the otherwise flawless ceramic, and she wondered absently if this cup had belonged to Kima, or Allura, or whatever poor soul had owned the home before the Briarwoods' incursion.

"Keyleth?" Kima asked.

Keyleth started. "Oh, right." She swallowed hard, eyes dropping to Kima's chest. Her holy symbol hung there, Bahamut's visage wrought in pure platinum.

She thought of Pike carving Sarenrae's wings into the leather buckles of her gloves. She thought of Kash pulling his sleeve down to hide his scars. She thought of Vax rolling a raven's feather between his fingers, eyes far away and brow furrowed.

Vax, who woke up screaming from dreams he never spoke about. Vax, who stared at every black bird he saw as if it were a death knell. Vax, exploring his new powers with equal parts awe and fear.

She thought of Kima, still bleeding from torture wounds and eyes burning silver as holy power radiated off her body.

She thought of Kima, who wore her holy symbols and wielded her holy power and swore by the god that nearly sent her to her death.

"How do you do it?" she blurted out.

Kima let out a laugh that sounded more startled than amused. "How do I make tea? I just boil water."

"No, not that." Keyleth grimaced. "I don't—" But the words stopped, because how could she ask a question if she didn't know what she was looking for? She cast around wildly, struggling to remember why she'd come here in the first place, but the words eluded her under the weight of Kima's eyes on hers and had her eyes always been that grey or was that just another sign of Bahamut's influence and what did that mean for Vax and what if She marked Vax and what if— "Remember when we first met?" Keyleth asked, because that seemed like a logical place to start.

After all, that was where _they_ had started, technically.

Kima slowly put down her teacup. "Of course." She wrinkled her nose. "That feels like so long ago."

Keyleth's nervousness bubbled up out of her throat in a shaky laugh. "Yeah! Doesn't it? It's kind of crazy. I mean, look where we are now."

"Trying to fight the same fucking dragon Allie and I fought fifteen years ago." Kima's brow furrowed, her fingers unconsciously curling into a fist. "Weird how _that_ doesn't feel that long ago."

That wasn't at all where Keyleth had been going with that, and so she snapped her mouth shut, momentarily at a loss.

Kima shook her head as if ridding herself of a particularly pesky fly. "Sorry, yeah. I remember. The Underdark was kind of shit."

"It was _so_ shitty," Keyleth agreed. "Remember, um, how shitty I was, too?"

Kima's lips twitched. "To be perfectly frank, not really."

"Oh." Keyleth's shoulders dropped. She couldn't count the number of hours she'd spent turning over those early arguments over in her head, replaying every unfair thing she'd said and searching for what had seemed wicked about Kima. On her good days, she could remember her own traumas and the way the darkness had frayed the edges of her mind. On the not so good days, she couldn't see anything but her own prejudices and doubts and anger. "You don't?"

Kima sighed heavily, the gust of air blowing loose strands of hair out of her face. "I wasn't, um, all _there_ , really. Mentally, I mean." She blinked, as if shaking off a bad dream. "I remember bits and pieces. I remember you lot getting me off that rack. I remember that mindflayer." She chewed her lower lip, eyes thoughtful but not distant. "I remember," Kima said slowly, as if she was feeling out each word before she spoke, "that you didn't trust me."

"Oh," Keyleth managed, voice very small, "Yes, that's right."

A smile flashed across Kima's lips, crooked but genuine. "I don't blame you. I was kind of . . . in a rough spot."

"Oh," Keyleth said again, voice even smaller, "I'm— I'm really sorry, by the way. I can't even imagine how terrible that must have been for you. And then I—" She fidgeted with the teacup, running her thumb over the chip. "—I just came and made everything worse."

Kima took a sip of her tea. Her eyes were terribly present, focused with zero distraction on Keyleth's face, and Keyleth fidgeted and looked down at her still teacup, with tea that was now growing lukewarm. 

"Sorry," Keyleth blurted out, "I'm just— so sorry for everything."

"No, don't apologize—" There was something familiar in Kima's tone, the phrase well-worn enough on her lips that she hardly seemed to notice the shape they made on her tongue. Keyleth thought again of Allura and Kima sitting and doing nothing but talking late into the night and she _ached_ to have that, to have the time to simply love Vax and let him love her, but she didn't have time to think about that now because Kima was still talking. "You don't have to apologize for any of that." She pursed her lips. "It doesn't matter now. You weren't fair, but you weren't wrong either." She grinned, abruptly, and Keyleth startled. "Besides, we're friends now, right?"

Keyleth smiled back. "Yeah. Yeah! Definitely." 

There was an awkward pause, and Kima cleared her throat. “Why do you ask?”

Keyleth swallowed hard. “Oh, right. I, um, didn’t trust you. I mean, obviously. You remember.” She stopped talking, squeezing her eyes shut and sucking in a deep breath. _Just breathe_ , she thought, with a touch of desperation. She wished she was like Percy. She wished her words would just do what she wanted them to. “I’ve had some, um, bad experiences? With religion, I mean. Or, not religion. Religious zealots.” She didn’t want to think too hard about that, and so she didn’t. She’d learned—was still learning—that some things were better to just forget. 

“Lots of people have,” Kima said, but her tone was gentle rather than dismissive and Keyleth felt a surge of warmth thread its way through her chest. 

“Yeah.” Keyleth was quiet for several moments longer, trying to unravel her tangled thoughts and emotions. It was so very difficult to parse out emotion from reason. “I just— yeah. That’s why I was so— You know.”

Kima’s brow was furrowed. “I see.” 

Keyleth’s head bobbed up and down in an awkward nod. She couldn’t quite figure out how to move on from there, to get Kima to understand the confused mess in her brain, and it made her head hurt. She put her hands around her cup and found it tepid. Absentmindedly, she lit a couple of her fingers and circled the flame around the cup just to watch steam curl into the air.

Kima watched her and didn't speak for a while, teeth worrying at her lower lip. "How are you, Keyleth?"

The flames vanished. Still looking at her cup, she said, "Oh, I'm fine."

"Uh huh." Kima's voice dropped an octave. "Are you sure?"

Keyleth took a sip of her tea. The mint wasn't terribly strong, and she found that she liked it. It reminded her of the tea Allura used to serve whenever they visited her tower.

(It occurred to her, suddenly, that this was probably Allura's tea)

"I'm fine. This is good tea."

Kima wrinkled her nose. "It's okay. I prefer chamomile." She downed the rest of her cup and tucked it next to the teapot. "Anyways. Is there anything else, Keyleth?"

Keyleth's eyes dropped back to her chest, to Bahamut's holy symbol, and suddenly the tea in her gut went cold. "Oh. I mean— I don't want to bother you."

"I'm not doing anything anyways." Kima propped her chin in her fist and grinned. "Allie's out studying your freaky orb of death and I refuse to go near that thing."

Keyleth recognized the rebuttal for what it was and sank further into her chair. She was desperately, painfully uncomfortable right now, and she wanted nothing more than to leave, but—

Well. There was nobody else to talk to about this.

"So," Keyleth said, "Bahamut, huh?"

Kima's eyebrows inched towards her hairline, clearly trying to work out the jump from their previous conversation. "I am his champion, yes."

Distracted immediately from her intended segue, Keyleth spluttered, "His _champion?"_

Amused, Kima asked, "What did you think I was?"

Keyleth wrung her hands, nearly knocking aside her teacup in the process. "I don't know! I thought— I thought you were just a paladin. You're his _champion_?!"

Kima shrugged a touch self-deprecatingly. "Yeah. Lady Kima of Vord, champion of the Platinum Dragon and erstwhile protégée of Vord Silver-Touched."

"And he just sent you into the Underdark?" Keyleth pressed, unable to keep the horror out of her voice. Whatever amorphous dissatisfaction that had driven her to Kima's and Allura's door was taking shape, stitching together a tapestry of Kima, tied to a rack and bleeding, of the Platinum Sanctuary, glorious and white-clean, and of Vax, kneeling in the Raven Queen's tomb with his sister's body clutched in his arms.

The humor vanished from Kima's expression. Quietly, she said, "He sent me there to destroy a great evil."

"You almost _died_ ," Keyleth protested, "You were _tortured_."

"But we succeeded." Kima rolled a loose quill between two of her fingers, expression inscrutable. "We recovered the Horn of K'varn and locked it away where it will never be used again."

"You were petrified. Twice!"

Kima didn't waver. "But I'm fine."

Hands shaking, Keyleth unhappily took a sip of her tea. The mint was no longer comforting. "How could he do that?" she demanded, eyes locked on her trembling fingers, "If you're his champion, how could he send you to a place where you might die?"

"If not me," Kima said slowly, deliberately, "Then who?"

Keyleth deflated slightly, shoulders inching up towards her ears. "I don't know.” Even as she continued talking, she bit back what she’d meant to say. “That guy— Platinum Knight U-something?"

Kima snorted. "Udire? No, he doesn't have the guts for something like the Underdark."

"So he wouldn't go, if Bahamut asked him to?"

"He probably would." One corner of Kima's lips curled upwards. "But the Platinum Dragon wouldn't ask him to. I'm his favorite."

Keyleth's shoulders twitched forwards, and she clenched her hands in her lap. "He has more than one champion?"

"Most of the major gods do. Gives them more influence and all that." Kima reached out and poured herself more tea. "Tea?"

"No, thank you." Keyleth fidgeted with a loose thread in her shirt. “Why doesn’t he go?”

Kima slowly put the teapot down. “Udire?”

Keyleth swallowed hard, eyes flicking up reluctantly to meet Kima’s gaze. “No. Bahamut.”

“Ah.” Kima’s eyes flickered. “He can’t. The gods can’t pass through the Divine Gate.”

Miserable, Keyleth ducked her head. She’d known that, of course. “Would he, even if he could?” But that was an unfair question, and so she barreled on. “Why do people listen to him?” Hastily, she added, “Or to any of them? Why should we bother listening to the gods? They don’t have any authority over any of us.” _What gave Her the right to meddle with any of our lives?_

“The Platinum Dragon keeps us safe,” Kima said, voice a little strained, “It is through his influence that people like me can destroy evil before it destroys innocent lives.”

Keyleth tilted backwards in her chair. She didn’t want the _devotion_ lecture right now. She wanted— 

She wanted—

She wanted to know what she wanted. 

“I know,” she mumbled, “Sorry.”

“No, don’t—” Kima muttered something under her breath and visibly took a calming breath. “I’m sorry. I know I can be a lot, sometimes, when it comes to Bahamut.”

Keyleth half-wondered if she should just get up and walk away right now. But her malcontent was taking root on her tongue, and she didn’t have the self control to stop it. "I just don't understand how you— how _people_ can blindly follow somebody who barely even _cares_ about them. I mean, what have the gods ever done for us? They just take, and they take, and they _take_ , and I don't understand! People just follow their every word. They do ridiculous, horrible things for them! They just— they just obey, as if the gods are infallible, and they're— they're not. They're _not_." Distantly, she realized her hands were still shaking. She folded them in her lap, neatly and properly, and squeezed her eyes shut so that she didn't have to look at Kima's expression. There was pain in her words, she knew. Pain from memories she was trying desperately to ignore. "They're just not. Why should any of us listen to them?"

Kima’s and Allura’s home was small, but it suddenly felt suffocating in the vacuum left behind her words. She was trembling, though she didn’t know it. For a single, wild second she was convinced that Kima was going to throw her onto the street. 

But when Kima spoke, her voice was soft. It made the backs of Keyleth's eyes burn to hear it, because she'd expected—

Well. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but she wouldn't have expected _softness_.

"They're not."

A touch on Keyleth's hand made her jump. Her eyes flew open and she found Kima standing beside her, expression complicated. Wordlessly, Kima drew Keyleth’s hands upward and pressed a full cup of tea, still hot, into her hands. Instinctively, Keyleth’s fingers curled around the cup. The warmth settled into her bones.

"They're really not," Kima continued, "and I can't tell you why the gods deserve our devotion." Kima squeezed her hands once before letting go and taking a step back. "I once asked those same questions, you know."

Keyleth blinked, shocked. "Did you find answers?"

"Sort of." Kima hopped up onto the table, just barely missing a stack of notes written in Allura's curling hand. "When I was younger—just before all this Thordak mess happened the first time, you know—I was kicked out of the Platinum Sanctuary to—” She made a face. "—learn _restraint_ and _devotion_."

"Devotion?" Keyleth asked blankly, "Weren't you—I don't know—raised by the Church? I mean, I just assumed because Vord is part of your title. . . ." She trailed off, cheeks slowly turning pink at the bemused look on Kima's face.

"I was, and I'm a really good fucking paladin, but—” Kima's hand came up, fingers wrapping around her holy symbol. "—I used to really suck at the whole _faith_ part of the Oath."

Keyleth couldn’t help laughing slightly at that, although there was no humor in it. “But you’re a paladin. And you’re always talking about Bahamut and, um, everything.”

Kima sighed. “Yeah. But I’d never _seen_ Bahamut back then. He’d never talked to me or sent me visions or anything. All my childhood, I’d just had Vord and the rest of the Sanctuary telling me that I was special, that I was chosen, that I had a greater purpose in this world.” She kicked her feet, but her eyes never left Keyleth’s face. “Some people just take that at face value. They just accept that they’re special, and they do whatever they’re told to do because that’s their path. That can be dangerous, Keyleth. I think you know that.” 

Keyleth swallowed hard, fingers tightening around her tea cup. “Yeah,” she mumbled. 

“But then I figured out it’s not about Bahamut, not really.” Kima shifted, fingers tightening around her holy symbol. “I mean, it is. But it’s also about the good _I_ can do for other people. He guides me, and he provides me with power, but it’s me that’s doing the good. That’s why I follow Bahamut. Because he lets me do more good than I could’ve done on my own.”

Keyleth bit her lip. “But what about not-so-good gods?”

Kima grimaced, looking a bit uncomfortable. “There’s always going to be people who follow authority blindly. But in the end, it’s about the _people_ . The gods can demand things—can _enforce_ things, really—but it’s up to us how to respond.” 

Keyleth surged upwards. “But that’s not true!” She hastily pushed her teacup into the center of the table so that she didn’t spill it. “The Raven Queen just came and— and _conscripted_ Vax and how he doesn’t have a choice—”

Kima’s eyes widened with sudden understanding, and Keyleth flushed and ducked her head. She hadn’t meant to say that, and now there were ants crawling along her skin. 

At length, Kima said, “I think he has a choice.” She was talking slowly, as if even she didn’t know what was going to come out of her mouth next. “That’s the thing with gods. They have influence and power, but we always have a choice. We can choose to follow, or we can choose to fight.” 

“But—”

“It may feel like he doesn’t have a choice,” Kima continued, “But I promise you: he does. The Raven Queen isn’t an unfair goddess.” 

“She’s a goddess of death,” Keyleth protested. 

“She’s a goddess of death,” Kima agreed, “and she is lawful to a fault. She will not overstep her boundaries. Vax offered himself up to her willingly. That is done. But it is his choice in _how_ he follows her.”

Keyleth wrapped her arms around her stomach. She felt ill. “It doesn’t feel like much of a choice.”

“I know.” Kima rocked back and forth, chewing her lower lip. “Drink some tea.” 

Keyleth made a face. “I know what you’re doing.” 

Kima blinked innocently at her. “I’m not doing anything.” 

Keyleth sat back down and drank some tea. The mint was fresh and warm on her tongue, and she didn’t get back up again.

Kima grinned. “The Raven Queen doesn’t mind resurrection rituals. If Vex was meant to die then, she wouldn’t be here today. The Raven Queen isn’t going to demand Vax’s death for his part in the resurrection ritual.”

“How can you be sure?” Keyleth asked, quiet and almost afraid. The words felt soft and vulnerable in her throat. That was the whole crux of the matter, wasn’t it? How could they be sure that She wouldn’t just swoop down and snatch Vax away one night?

“That’s the faith part, I’m afraid.” 

Keyleth looked down at her tea and unhappily gulped down the rest. It did little to settle her thoughts, but it was easier to believe that in the face of Kima’s steadfastness than it was in the darkness of her own room. 

Hesitantly, looking down at the dregs left at the bottom of the cup, she asked, “Do you think we—people, I mean—have any obligations to the gods?” 

Kima turned to look at her. “I think,” she said, just as slowly as before, “that we have an obligation to each other. Sometimes, the gods help us with those obligations.” Faster, now, as if she was half-talking to herself rather than to Keyleth, she said, “Sarenrae helps Pike keep you lot alive, and you’ve done all sorts of good for all sorts of people. Bahamut helps me hunt down monsters before they can eat innocents. And the Raven Queen might be able to help Vax save lives, too. She’ll _definitely_ help him end those that should have ended long ago.”

“But he doesn’t _have_ to,” Keyleth said, distantly aware but uncaring that she sounded a little petulant. 

Kima shrugged. “I have no idea what his relationship with her is like. But if I had to guess, I’d say it doesn’t matter anyways. He’ll _want_ to, in the end, because Vax is a good person. He likes helping people, and the Raven Queen can help him do that.” 

Keyleth opened her mouth and then closed it again. The compulsory nature of Vax’s relationship with Her had always been what bothered her most. She didn’t like Kima’s answer, not really. But she thought she was beginning to understand it. “It’s about us,” she said slowly, “and what we do.”

Kima nodded once, firm. “And how we choose. The gods will always watch over us, and we can choose whether we want to walk beside them. Bahamut called me into the Underdark, and I went willingly because I knew people would die if I didn’t.” She seemed to think for a moment before adding, “Allie called you lot down there, not him. But you still helped me complete my Quest, and we saved many lives for it.”

Keyleth took a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh.” The tangled, trembling emotions in her chest had finally settled. They were still knotted and clumped, but they weren’t moving anymore. She teased them out, feeling along their twisted edges, and found that she could probably start untangling them, if she wanted. 

She didn’t think she wanted to, not right now. But later, when she didn’t feel quiet so exhausted and drawn out.

Kima held out her hand. “Come on. I feel like you could use a drink. Something stronger than tea, at any rate.” 

Keyleth couldn’t help the tentative smile that spread across her face. “Oh, I could always use a drink.” 

Kima laughed. “Let’s go, then. I found a _very_ good bar last week and I’d love to go back.”

Keyleth took another deep breath, grabbed Kima’s hand, and let herself be dragged back into the world. 


End file.
